From the Unknown
by Metal Harbinger
Summary: A man wakes up with no memory of who he is or his past life. Finding himself caught in the middle of a brewing conflict that threatens to tear a nation apart, he sets out in search of answers while encountering his fair share of shady characters and unusual happenings in the Midwestern Wasteland. Because war, war never changes.
1. Prologue: War Never Changes

From the Unknown

by Metal Harbinger

Prologue: War Never Changes

 _War. War never changes._

 _When atomic fire consumed the landscape humanity was sent retreating to the safety of the great underground vaults. Those who survived took the knowledge of the old world with them, in turn passing it down to the generations that followed._

 _When the vaults opened, their inhabitants entered a hostile new world._

 _What had once been the American Midwest was now reduced to an open grave site littered with the ruins of once great cities, plagued with raiders, savage tribals, super mutants and other horrors sired from the fallout of a long ago war. Famine, plague and warfare lurked around every corner and with little resources and even fewer prospects the emerging survivors seemed destined to follow the same fate from those before them._

 _Yet even in the darkest of days humankind is a stubborn creature and all would have been lost if it had not been for one man determined to bring hope to those living in the death grip of fear._

 _This man was George Washington Stanton._

 _Inspired by the tales of the great leaders of yesteryear, he alone embarked upon an ambitious quest to restore order to a hostile land, spreading the old world values of democracy, liberty and the rule of law. It was through his efforts a loose confederation of small city states would unite to form a new nation that would rise from the ashes like a phoenix._

 _This nation was the New Midwest Commonwealth._

 _Under his leadership the scarred landscape slowly began to heal: towns being rebuilt, resources being reclaimed, raiders and other threats being beaten back, the population growing as tribes and villages were assimilated. The NMC also proved its might as a regional military power, beating back both an already weakened Enclave and a Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel that had long ago fallen into decline. It was a golden age of enlightenment and progress that would last for well over 30 years, only to be squandered following the Founding Father's untimely passing._

 _Lacking the brilliance, experience and iron will of his predecessor, the next President Thomas Jefferson Hadley would lose many of the commonwealth's territorial gains through a series of embarrassing military blunders against a rejuvenated Brotherhood, which in turn would lead to a very public falling out with the leader of the NMC's military forces, General Abraham Barca, who saw the new commander-in-chief as an incompetent coward._

 _With a loyal inner circle and support from desperate and dissatisfied locals, General Barca would lead a successful takeover of the NMC's capital Steel City (formerly Chicago), coming within inches of capturing President Hadley, who would escape to the northernmost reaches of the NMC's territory to reestablish his rule. It is only thanks to their preoccupation with the reemergent Brotherhood that has thus far stalled the ambitious general's advance into the northern territories._

 _The southern territories firmly under his control, General Barca embarked upon a brutal campaign of hawkish imperialism, expanding the Southern Midwest Commonwealth's reach into expanses of Iowa, Kentucky, and Ohio, slaughtering all who would oppose him._

 _As the young nation is divided into two separate, warring factions, the renewed Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel seeks to reestablish their foothold in the region._

 _Driven by a sense of revanchism following their embarrassing loss to the nascent Commonwealth decades earlier, the Brotherhood retreated further into the West, where they hid in the shadows, biding their time, replenishing their forces, and stockpiling newly gathered technology in preparation for a major counter-strike that would commence following the death of President Stanton, a time when their old enemy would be at its weakest._

 _Now led by the effective Elder Tobias Longstreet, the Brotherhood finds itself on the cusp of reclaiming what it rightfully believes to be theirs, forcing their already exhausted and overstretched adversaries to fight a two-pronged war that threatens both sides in the long run._

 _The year is now 2294, eight years having passed since the first shots were fired. The nation remains divided as all factions struggle with the perpetual threat of super mutants, raiders and other encroaching threats of the wasteland. Aside from a few sporadic skirmishes, a sense of normality, if not peace, has fallen over the land as people struggle to survive in a time of war._

 _But it is only the calm before the storm._

 _While Barca continues with his campaign of aggressive expansionism, the NMC's current President Frank Spector struggles to rebuild his forces and restore the people's faith in him as a strong, effective leader. Elder Longstreet meanwhile sees a golden opportunity to reclaim the American Midwest in the name of the Brotherhood. Through it all, there are those watching from the shadows with their own motives in mind, waiting for the warring factions to gradually wear each other down and ensuring nobody can best the others. Who they are and what their motives are remains unknown._

 _As it has been with any major conflict throughout recorded history there are always those who are caught in the middle, unwitting pawns in a game much larger than they can ever anticipate. It is their move that tips the crucial balance of power in favor of the eventual winner._

 _Because war, war never changes._

 **Author's Note:** They say the definition of "insanity" is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, in that case I must be one very insane motherfucker because here I am attempting to do a "Fallout" fic again.

No matter what happens, it's just an idea that doesn't want to leave me behind, compounded by me FINALLY playing "Fallout 4" on my own and with it, the ideas coming flooding in.

This time around I've tried to be a bit more cautious and have been plotting out a road map that can hopefully give me some form of structure as I go another round.

Until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	2. Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

First there was darkness and the death-like silence that followed it.

Then there was the faint whirr and the gentle breeze.

I fluttered my eyes open just to squeeze them shut a second later.

Blinding light engulfed everything and my heart began racing as I was overcome by the tidal wave of agony, starting from my head and shooting all the way down to the tips of my toes like a violent crackle of electricity. I felt my eyeballs wanting to explode behind my clenched eyelids and my muscles tightened as my blood turned to fire. I couldn't move and wanted to scream in agony, but all that came out was a weak gurgle.

And then just like that it was over. No more agony. No more fire.

Slowly, but surely the rest of my senses came back to me as I again heard the gentle whirr and the mild breeze that followed, along with the leaden tongue in my dry mouth and then the soft warmth of a blanket. The aroma of coffee entered my nostrils and my facial muscles twitched as I felt the hard bed beneath me.

I'm going to try this again.

I slowly opened my eyes, but was again met by the blinding light and a low grunt escaped my lips. I wanted to bring my hands up and rub at my throbbing eyes, yet my arms felt like they were made of rubber and it took a strained effort before I could lift a hand to rub at my throbbing eyes, only to recoil at the fresh thundering inside my skull as the low grunt morphed into a strangled cry.

"Father, I think he's waking up!" a woman's voice called out from nearby.

Another person!

I lowered my hand and again forced my eyes open. It was like I was trapped underwater as the whole world rippled around me, but at least the blinding light was fading. Colors and shapes began coming back to me as a particularly large blur crossed my field of vision.

"Take it easy there, son. You don't wanna overexert yourself after everything you've been through," a new voice spoke up, a man's with a kindly tinge to it, followed by repeated taps on a wooden floor.

I tried to speak, but I couldn't form the words and let out a train of gibberish.

"I'm just glad to see you're still among the living," the man spoke with a gentle chuckle as the creaking of a chair followed.

I managed to turn my head to the side in an effort to catch a glimpse of whom was speaking to me, but everything started spinning again and fresh waves of nausea left me wanting to vomit. I brought my hand back to cover my eyes and block out the world around me until the feeling subsided.

"Don't be in too much of a hurry, friend. You've been out cold for three days straight. You're gonna need plenty of time to regain your bearings," the man spoke again.

I lowered my hand and found myself staring at a roughly human-shaped form. It took a few seconds before my vision started to adjust and I found myself staring at an older gentleman in a white lab coat with a full head of silver hair and crystal blue eyes beneath a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses.

"It's good to see you awake. After what happened to you I was beginning to worry my efforts had all been for naught," the man said rising to his feet and pulling a thin object from his breast pocket, "Now that you're awake, if you'll excuse me for a bit..."

Next thing I know he was using his thumb to lift my eyelid and shining a bright light into it, causing another sudden rush of pain to shoot throughout my body.

"Ah...please! No!" I rasped, my tongue feeling like it weighed a ton.

"At least you can still talk. That's a promising sign," he said with another chuckle, "I know it isn't pleasant, but it's just a little process I do with everybody just waking up after being out for more than a day. You've still got your sight, another good deal. You should've seen how red your eye when they brought you in," he spoke before reaching for the stethoscope dangling around his neck and pressing it to my chest.

"Where...where...am I?" I groaned before a sudden deep breath.

"You are in my home. Rest assured you are somewhere safe. It's a good thing Sheriff Ruby and her posse found you when they did. Had they been a second later, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation," the nameless man spoke placing his stethoscope on a nearby trap and then scooping up a clipboard to jot down a few notes.

"Where did they find me? I blurted out, relieved I was capable of speaking a fully coherent sentence, yet wondering why I asked the question when I didn't even know where I actually was to begin with.

The only man looked apprehensively towards me before answering, "They found out at a drive-in about ten miles outside of here. You were the lucky one."

"Lucky one?" I asked with a slight tremor.

"They think it was being used as an encampment by the Road Ragers," he continued, the reluctance evident in his tone.

"Road Ragers?" I asked, feeling a ball of ice forming in my stomach. Was that supposed to be the case?

"A raider group," he replied scrunching his facial features, "Bloody savages. Every single damned one of them."

I could only stare in confusion.

Who were these Road Ragers and why did he sound so scared of them?

"Why was I there?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that. I'm just as clueless as you," the man said clasping his hands in front of him, "Sheriff Ruby and her people were out looking for members of a missing supply caravan when they found you," he curtly answered before changing the subject, "Anyways, I'm Doc Graham and now that you've finally woken up I can formally welcome you to Rodeo Plaza."

"Rodeo Plaza," I repeated in a barely audible whisper. Was this place supposed to mean something to me? I tried to remember, but could only draw a blank.

"That is correct. One of the few places 'round these parts where you're still able to get a warm meal, a good night's rest, or even a warm bath without being shot at, but enough about that," the good doctor said before lowering himself back down into his chair, "Now, can you tell me your name?"

The whole world came to a sudden standstill.

I couldn't remember.

My name? What's my name? I have a name, right? I have to have one if I'm a part of this world, don't I? Parents tend to give their children names when they are born.

Wait a minute, parents...I have parents, don't I? How else am I here? If I have them then why can't I remember them? Oh god...who am I? What am I? Where do I come from? When was I born? Why can't I remember anything? How did I get like this?

The litany of questions running through my head came to a sudden halt as I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked over to see the silver-haired man hovering over me.

"You don't remember, do you?" he deadpanned.

I could only stare quietly back before I slowly began shaking my head, "No...I don't...I don't remember anything at all..."

The doctor offered a rueful stare, "You took a pretty nasty blow to the head. I don't know if it was the Road Ragers doing, but I'm surprised you're not a vegetable right now."

The revelation sent a fresh chill down my spine as I stared at the dull ceiling, afraid to move as question after question swirled through my head. All the while Doc Graham remained steadfast by my side.

"I'm sorry. I can't even begin to imagine what you are going through. Rest assured that we will do whatever we can to help you through this trying ordeal. You have my word."

Again I remained silent. I wanted to thank this man for saving my life, but the overwhelming feeling of dread kept me unable to speak and I laid there listening to the beating of my heart. It seemed like an eternity and when it finally happened I don't even recall how I made the effort to speak.

"Am I going to be like this forever?" I asked.

The old man offered a pensive gaze and placed a hand to his chin. "Well, I'm sure things will come back to you in due time...I hope. Everyone is different."

A knock came and my eyes shifted towards the doorway where a young woman stood, clad in a flower-patterned spring dress with her auburn hair tied back in a bun. She recoiled when noticing my sudden movements, but relaxed when she saw that I meant no harm.

"Father, how is he doing?" she inquired.

"Our guest seems to be doing fine," the doctor answered before returning his attention to me, "for the most part."

The woman nodded and offered me a warm smile. "I'm Lucy. Glad to see you are alright. I hope you don't mind, but I washed your jumpsuit for you."

"My jumpsuit?" I asked while slowly rolling onto my side.

The young lady nodded and raised a light blue jumpsuit for me to see, the number '72' stitched onto the backside in yellow polyester.

"You were wearing that when they found you. Doesn't jog any memories?" Graham asked.

I shook my head as I stared at the strange jumpsuit. "Is that supposed to be something you know about?" I asked wondering how I could have been wearing something like that.

"They're from Vaults. Those places were all over. They were supposed to protect people from when the bombs fell over 200 years ago. My pops grew up in one of those places. Granted, I haven't seen a vault dweller out and about in over 40 years, but if you're one of them then you sure look like you've been through a whole hell of a lot," the doctor said adjusting his glasses.

I looked down to my bare arms and noticed a multitude of scars covering them, long, thin lines of discolored flesh over a fair surface. It was then I noticed the needle sticking in my arm and the IV drip I had been hooked up to all this time. Carefully I lifted the blanket to see a few jagged circular markings covering my bare chest and stomach. Was I supposed to have all this if I was a 'vault dweller' as the good doctor put it?

"I...I wouldn't know," I replied staring down at the markings and brought my right hand up, only for my eyes to widen in horror when I looked down at the bandaged stump where my right index finger should have been. As I slowly lowered my hand I looked straight ahead and into an adjoining darkened room where I was able to see the glint of light off a reflective surface – a mirror!

There was something else I needed to see and with a sudden surge of strength coming to me I kicked the covers to the floor and pulled the IV needle from my arm.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the doctor demanded and without warning I grabbed onto his arm and with a mighty tug I pulled myself to my feet, only to feel my legs wobbling beneath me and my world beginning to spin, followed by a fresh wave of nausea.

"Son, you need to take it easy!" Graham protested placing his other hand on my waist to steady me.

"I have to see something!" I grunted taking a step forward, only to catch myself on the nearby bedpost as my knees buckled beneath my weight.

"Lucy, help me!" the doctor ordered and without hesitation his daughter dropped the blue jumpsuit to the floor and was rushing over to lend me her shoulder. I stood in place with my arms wrapped around both of them and I took a few deep breaths before I dared to place weight on my other foot, trying to shrug off the tingling sensation as my bare feet stood on the cool wooden floor.

"I have to see something," I repeated while taking in my surroundings.

All this time I had been in a room big enough to include two other empty single person beds shielded by semi-transparent privacy screens, a gurney and a wheelchair, both slightly rusted but left in otherwise good condition, a small table where a chemistry set sat, a large cabinet, and several charts depicting the human anatomy adorning the walls. Towards the center of the room was an operating table surrounded by trays holding various surgical instruments and an operating light hanging overhead. Yet through it all, there was that small room at the end that held my attention, where the reflective surface called out to me.

"I have to see something," I repeated for the second time before taking a few more labored steps, dragging the doctor and his daughter along with me. It would take some more struggle before I would find my center of gravity and with my strength coming back to me I gently broke free and stepped hurriedly towards the opened door before stopping to brace myself against the frame. Nothing was going to stop me and with another lunge I was in the room and grasping the counter. The click of a light switch followed and I was left standing face to face with someone I didn't recognize at all.

That somebody was supposed to be me.

My eyes were drawn to the right side of my head, which had been shaved bald and was covered by a several days old bandage that had been wrapped all the way around my head, a darkened, almost brown dry spot crossing the expanse. The good doctor mentioned I had taken a pretty nasty blow to the head and it left me wondering if this was the very injury that had robbed me of my memory. I was strangely drawn to the dried splotch, yet it left me afraid to make any sudden movements for fear of reopening the freshly mended wound. I still had to feel relief in knowing that something could be done, or else I wouldn't be here taking a good hard look at the face in the mirror before me.

Speaking of which, I slowly began to take in the rest, at least what wasn't obscured by hair. What had once been a full mane of sandy blond hair fell to the bottom of my neck and was joined by a thick matching beard covering the bottom half of my face, both matted and oily after not having been washed in quite some time. A pair of bloodshot steely gray eyes looked back at me, rimmed by a discolored patch of black and blue and the corner of the right held together by another line of stitches, a testament to how badly those savages had roughed me up.

"Are you alright, mister?" Doc Graham spoke from behind, now having retrieved his cane and looking towards me with deep concern. I didn't reply.

All I could do was focus on the bloodshot eyes staring back at me and note the pain behind them.

Had I really lived such a long, hard life why they looked so dead to me?

From the corner of my eye I looked back at the old doctor and let out a quiet sigh before answering, "I'm fine."

It was a lie and judging by the doctor's furrowing brow he could also tell it was, but I'm guessing he was going to be considerate and not prod a guy who had just woken up with no memory of his past and he disappeared from sight.

"Very well. You should get yourself cleaned up. Looks like it's been a while since you've had yourself a nice warm bath," the old man called out.

"Not to mention a decent haircut," Lucy added.

"Take all the time you need. We'll still be here when you get done," Graham spoke from the other room.

"Yeah...thanks," I said closing the door behind me.

XXXXXX

I don't know how long I was in that bathtub for, but I swore it must have felt like damn near an eternity, at least long enough to warrant four knocks from Lucy coming to check up on me. It hadn't taken me long to wash all the filth away, but it was the sheer solitude that had given me plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts and the warm, soothing water did nothing to calm my racing mind.

The same questions haunted me as I sat there and whenever I tried to dig deeper I only felt that sharp pain in the side of my head. I had to ask myself again if I would be like this forever and the good doctor's words did little to alleviate my anxieties.

The fifth knock came and my body must have gone into autopilot because before I knew it Lucy was in to give me both a shave and a proper haircut.

Now here I stood looking into the eyes of a completely different person.

The partial mane had been shaved away and the beard was long gone, revealing the X-shaped scar on my right cheek that marred an otherwise youthful appearance. I was grateful for what the young woman had done for me, but now I was left to wonder how old I really was (I couldn't be any more than 35 by my rough guess) and where I could have gotten that unique scar from.

She had been forced to remove the bandage while cutting my hair and it was now that I was able to see the line of stitches crossing the expanse of weathered skin. I was oddly drawn to the aftermath of his needlework, but then reminded myself that this wasn't some large scale professional setup he had and focused on getting myself dressed.

With nothing else left for me I was now clad in the Vault 72 jumpsuit after receiving a fresh pair of under garments, along with a pair of black boots, matching fingerless gloves, and a belt I had been wearing when that posse found me. The clothes looked foreign, yet at the same time felt familiar. Was I truly one of those 'vault dwellers' as the good doctor had said? Or does this outfit just fit me that well?

I switched off the light and made my way into a spacious living room where Doc Graham sat in a cushy armchair near the fireplace with his nose buried in a book and a leather travel pack at his feet. From the other room I could hear the sizzle of something cooking on a stove and felt my already dry mouth watering, leaving me to wonder if that was a smell I was supposed to be familiar with. My thoughts were interrupted as the old man heard me approach and looked up with his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"Well I'll be damned. Are you the same guy I treated earlier?" he asked setting his book down on the nearby coffee table. "My daughter must be quite the miracle worker because you're looking like a whole new person."

I offered only a slight laugh to the comment as I scanned the rest of the room and my eyes were drawn to a tidy bookshelf lined with untouched pre-War books, a toy car, and a globe before happening across a framed black and white photograph, one of a younger man and a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Lucy.

"That was my wife and I when we were first married," the doctor spoke up, "Lucy sure takes after her, don't you think?" he finished with a hint of sadness in his voice before gesturing towards the lime green couch across from him, "But that's a story for another time. Here, why don't you take a seat?"

"Sure," I said sitting down and making myself comfortable.

"I know it hasn't been long, but how are things coming along thus far?" Graham asked leaning forward in his armchair.

I hesitated to reply and took a few deep breaths before I spoke, "Well, this suit...it almost feels familiar to me, but it doesn't look like it. I was thinking I would get some ideas...but I just can't come up with anything."

The old doctor sat quietly across from me with his chin rested upon a balled up fist knowing he had to choose his words carefully. It wasn't like there was much he could say without provoking some kind of strong reaction, especially when the patient was awake and alone in a war-torn world, but he still took his time before lifting his head and speaking.

"I understand you are going to have a long road ahead of you and I want to do what I can to help, but I can't just throw a bunch of stuff at you all in one sitting. You have to take things one day at a time. The fact that the feeling of that jumpsuit seems familiar to you is just a tiny baby step. Is it going to be in the right direction? I honestly cannot tell you," the older man spoke before removing his glasses to wipe some specks away with the corner of his lab coat.

"Is there even a 'right' direction?" I asked staring blankly into the empty fireplace.

"Only time will tell, but I think I could help give you a jump start," Graham replied before reaching down for the backpack at his side and placing it on the coffee table.

"That pack was with you when they brought you in. I would've looked through it, but I didn't want to invade your privacy. I'm assuming its yours, so why don't you take a look through it? See if there's anything to jog your memory."

I stared at the pack placed before me, a scuffled leather bag that had seen its share of wear and tear. Like my jumpsuit, it had the number '72' stitched onto it in bright yellow polyester. I repeated the number to myself, wondering if there had to be some kind of connection.

Vault 72, was that where I came from?

I undid the clasps and reached in for the first item, only to pull out...a comic book?

The cover had an image depicting a scantily-clad man with a large battle ax in hand, locked in a battle with a monster much larger than him. The title introduced him as 'Grognak the Barbarian.' Was I supposed to like him or something? I dug further and found two more issues of the same comic, so that must be a yes.

"You seem to be a child at heart. There's something we could have to go on," the doctor chuckled, "I haven't seen a Grognak comic around in forever," he said before leaning over to me and whispering, "I have a whole bunch of those hidden in a safe beneath my bed, but you didn't hear that from me," he finished with a wink.

I ignored the comment as I pulled out a bright red baseball cap with a large 'W' stitched onto the front, which piqued my curiosity. What did the solitary letter mean? Was it a place? A person? Something else?

"Could be a baseball team," Graham piped in and I looked at him cocking an eyebrow. "It was a popular sport at one point in this country's history. The players wore hats similar to those. I learned all about it in a book my father kept in his study."

I offered a slight nod before I focused on emptying the bag, pulling out a small box of some snack called 'Fancy Lads Snack Cakes,' a roll of bandages, a small pocket knife, and a leather belt before I happened across more items that were seriously drawing my attention and forcing me to slow down.

The first item was a folded up piece of paper I carefully opened and was met by the smiling visage of a young woman with hair that fell past her shoulders and clad in a nice dress.

Who was she? Somebody I was supposed to care about? Like a childhood friend or even a spouse?

I showed the image to Graham, who paused to take in every single little detail.

"Well if you drew that, you're a pretty damned good artist. There's something we could have to go on. Perhaps that could be a drawing of someone from your past," he said, repeating my own thoughts aloud. "She must be out there looking for you...," he spoke, his tone uncertain.

I offered another quick nod as I reached the bottom and felt something metallic stuck in a fold and pulled it out.

It was a gold star suspended from a red,white and blue ribbon.

I was mystified by the artifact and left to wonder why I would be carrying such a thing. I looked back to Doc Graham, who just regarded me with quiet curiosity as I held the star in front of him.

"It looks like some kind of medal, like the kind the government gave out to servicemen back in the pre-War times," he said eyeing it closely.

"Pre-War?" I asked, having heard the term more than once since waking up, the doctor saying something about 'when the bombs fell over 200 years ago.'

"Heh, I guess you really have been living in a Vault after all this time," Graham said rubbing his chin, "and just when I thought they were all opened."

The doctor cleared his throat before continuing, "I don't know how you ended up with that medal in your possession, but if I were you I'd hold on to that. If there's one thing life in the wastes teaches you, it's that every little thing counts. You never know where the littlest things can lead to," he commented before cocking a mischievous eyebrow, "Perhaps you have that for a reason, one that could give you some of the answers you seek."

Strange enough, I felt inclined to agree with the guy and I slid the medal back into the pack before looking over to him, "I still don't feel anything, Doc."

"Take your time, dear boy. You don't want to rush yourself," the old man spoke as he reached for his cane and was about to stand up before stopping himself, "Come to think of it, all this time you've been with us and we haven't give you a name to call you."

Once again I was left wondering what my name had been before that posse found me and I shut my eyes in deep thought, hoping for some kind of flash from the past, but was again unable to come up with anything. Surely I needed to be called something other than just "Mister," "Son," or "Hey you."

It was then my eyes opened and I was staring at my backpack.

"Seventy-Two," I blurted out.

The doctor just stopped and looked at me in bewilderment.

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

"Call me Seventy-Two," I answered.

Graham looked at me in confusion and was about to say something, but halted when he saw that I was being serious.

"Well...if that's what you want to call yourself then I guess that's what you want to call yourself," the doctor spoke in an unsure tone, his brow creasing in emphasis, "Can't say that's the name I would've picked for you, but who am I to judge?" he grumbled and started off for the kitchen.

"That Brahmin steak sure is smelling mighty delicious. Maybe a filling meal could be a good start, eh?"

I said nothing and rose to my feet, still repeating the name to myself over and over again.

Seventy-Two.

It wouldn't be just a name. No, it would become a reminder. It would become a mission.

I needed to find this 'Vault 72' and see if it truly carried the answers I had been seeking.

But for now, as the good doctor said, I needed to take my time and I followed him into the kitchen.

 **Author's Note:** And so completes the first chapter of my attempt at a reboot.

Please bear in mind with me that I am stepping outside of my usual comfort zone with this story as I am doing something done in first person – and from the perspective of a man with amnesia, which has why I've struggled with this in the past.

Until then, let me know what you think. As always, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


	3. The First Steps Forward

Chapter 2: The First Steps Forward

"Wow...this is some delicious steak," I said before sticking another chunk into my mouth and taking my sweet time chewing it before grabbing the nearby bottle of Nuka Cola to wash it down. I didn't know if I was supposed to like steak or not, but I was enjoying this particular kind and wanted to try it again sometime.

"Bob and Doris have been doing this for a long, long time. They know their stuff. Believe me, their steaks are even better than that radspider casserole over at Vannah's," Doc Graham chuckled, only to stop himself when I looked at him in confusion, "but that's a story for another time."

"Better not let Vannah hear you saying that," Lucy spoke while pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee, "You know how protective she is of her homemade cooking. She doesn't keep that shotgun on the wall just for decoration you know," she added taking a seat at the end of the kitchen table.

"You always gotta get that dramatic?" the good doctor scoffed with a dismissive wave.

I found myself chuckling at the lighthearted exchange and kept focused on the steak before me. I had been sitting down with the Grahams for over an hour now and in that short span of time the doctor managed to give me a brief history lesson where he touched upon the "Great War" and how the entire world had fallen into nuclear annihilation, along with the people fleeing to the vaults and their subsequent emergence decades later, the formation of the New Midwest Commonwealth, and the founding of Rodeo Plaza. Granted everything seemed so brief to me because I was so intent upon the succulent Brahmin steak I ended up asking for another, along with a side of canned corn and another bottle of Nuka Cola. Damn, I must have never eaten anything before I lost my memory!

"Thank you for the meal," I said setting down my utensils and grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess sauce away from my lips.

"Anytime. You are my patient, so I want to do what I can to help after what you've gone through," the doctor smiled across from me before finishing his coffee, the mug advertising some place called the _'Commonwealth Institute of Technology.'_ Just then a knock came from the front door.

"I'll get that," Lucy said rising from her chair and exiting the room, only to return moments later with a visitor. "Father, Mr. Morgan is here to see you."

Their guest was a tall, robust dark-skinned older man with graying hair and a matching mustache and goatee, clad in a windbreaker and tan slacks. He would have been intimidating had it not been for the warm smile he offered upon seeing his old friend.

"Afternoon Larry, I was just coming over to see how your patient was doing," the man spoke before turning his attention to me, "Glad to see you are awake, son."

"Thank you, mister," I said rising to my feet to shake the man's hand, "You can call me Seventy-Two."

The man stared at me in confusion before shrugging, "Uh yeah, sure thing. I'm Gus Morgan and I'm in charge around here. I heard about Sheriff Ruby and her boys finding you at that Road Rager camp and I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

"I'm doing fine so far...I think," I replied while turning my head so he could see the line of stitches for himself.

"My patient – Seventy-Two I mean, has been having some memory problems and we are trying to help him get back on his feet," Graham said grabbing his cane and walking up alongside me.

"Oh, well rest assured you are in good hands," Gus said motioning to Graham, "I know he will do whatever he can."

"Right," I nodded looking away and rubbing the back of my neck, "This Sheriff Ruby I've heard you mention, where is she?" I asked changing the subject.

"Well, if she's not out searching for lost caravans, blasting down the pests that come knocking on our door, or helping Seymour round up his Brahmin, she's usually over at her office," Gus replied before looking down at his wristwatch, "If you're quick, you might still be able to catch her. Her office is next door to Vannah's Dinner, that little metal building next to the red and white eyesore. Make sure to tell her I sent you."

"Very well then. Hopefully she can give me some clues," I replied.

"Just watch yourself out there. You're welcome to hang around the community for as long as you like, just don't go around causing no trouble and we'll get along just fine," Gus nodded.

"I appreciate your hospitality and I promise I won't," I said reaching over to shake the big man's hand again before making my way out of the kitchen.

"Just don't go losing anything else while you're out and about," Graham called as I reached the front door.

"Thanks again. I'll see you around, Doc," I replied before opening the front door and stepping out.

XXXXX

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the lingering daylight before the world around me returned and I was finally able to take in the community that was Rodeo Plaza, a walled-in plot of land dominated by the motel that bore its namesake. By the looks of it, the building must have existed before the war that destroyed the world. Standing in front of it was a faded cowboy statue, the colossus still offering a friendly wave and an ear-to-ear grin to those who had not succumbed to the insanity of the harsh wastes around them.

From the hilltop where I stood I had a nearly complete view of the entire settlement and in addition to the community's centerpiece the only other building that really stood out to me right away was a long narrow strip mall with a heavily pock-marked stone surface that offered access to a food co-op, general store, weapons dealer, chemist and barber shop. Aside from that it was mostly small plywood houses, a few large tents, a small brick building covered in peeling blue paint that was surrounded by disassembled cars and robots (a sign hanging overhead identifying it as _'Seth's Garage'_ ), a rickety-looking church that appeared ready to collapse with the next strong wind, and empty plots of land set aside for farming and grazing Bighorns and those two-headed cattle ('Brahmin' was what Doc Graham had called them).

There was a flagpole on the motel grounds with a banner that flew above it all: seven stripes, 3 blue and 4 gold, along with a large white circle towards the left that had a burning torch surrounded by 5 large gold stars, a symbol from the old world carried over to the new.

The sheet metal walls surrounding the community were tall enough to obscure my view of what laid beyond and it left me feeling curious to explore the outside world, yet I knew I had other business that needed tending to first.

A dirt trail led me down to a faded picket fence with a small gate separating the doctor's property from the rest of town, noting the mailbox out front that bore a bright red cross rather than the inhabitant's name on the side. I opened the gate and made my way along a road continuing forth until I saw a sign letting me know I would find the Sheriff's Office if I took a left, along with Vannah's Dinner and the marketplace. I did as instructed and found myself on a street lined with tents and vendor's booths that didn't leave much room for movement, yet the area was still rife with activity for the late afternoon hours.

Business had been good for the vendors plying their wares with curious visitors drawn in by the carefully rehearsed speech of the unofficial market crier, a freckle-faced boy standing atop an empty Sunset Sarsaparilla crate with a walking stick he pointed in all directions as other children ran past him kicking a soccer ball around while a dog bounded after them, barking happily the entire time.

Those who weren't shopping were gathered around a small enclosure where a cowboy hat-wearing busker with an exaggerated walrus mustache belted out some folksy tune about an absent father while strumming away on an acoustic guitar.

The music suddenly stopped when the busker noticed me and everything else would soon follow as the patrons and vendors halted their activities to stop and stare at me, even the dog who had been chasing after the children just moments earlier stopped what it was doing to come over and sniff me out of curiosity.

It wasn't long before some of the residents began murmuring quietly among themselves while others continued staring in quiet wonder and I looked back feeling like I should be getting out of there, but my legs didn't want to move and I felt my mouth opening for me to shout at them to leave me alone, yet nothing came out as the tension paralyzed me.

I felt like an animal in a cage as they sized me up and the world seemed to slow down as my heart began racing and it was then my hearing grew to superhuman levels and I could hear every little detail: the jangling of bottle caps as the junk vendor stepped out from behind his booth to get a better look at me, the splatter of a distracted lemonade vendor spilling the contents of her pitcher, the click as some child ran up to me with a camera in hand and snapped a picture...

"Hey, you're a Vaultie aren't you?" I heard a voice calling out and turned to see a balding older man in a bright red handyman's jumpsuit approaching me, the clanking of the instruments inside his toolbox amplified times a million.

It became too much and I brushed past the old maintenance man and took another left past the busker before I found myself approaching a narrow red and white "eyesore" Gus mentioned earlier, the weathered sign hanging overhead identifying it as _'Vannah's Dinner'_ along with a placard out front proclaiming the building as the _"Home of Vannah's world famous radspider casserole."_

Yet it was the sheet metal building next door which caught my attention that had a few eight-legged creatures tied to posts outside. What were they called? Oh yes, Sleipnirs – an animal born from the fallout of a long ago war, a product of old creatures being forced to evolve into something new in the wake of the world's destruction. They were a mutated form of horse according to what Doc Graham had told me and were common throughout the land.

Never mind that. I soon spotted the big gold star on the front door and I knew where I needed to be.

I stepped into a room that looked too large for the ramshackle welded together structure from the outside, one large enough to hold three desks, two extra chairs, a moldy and torn leather couch, two cots, two workbenches, and a coffee machine. The only occupant at the moment was some younger man with his back to me banging away on a malfunctioning radio, "Come on, you stupid piece of shit!"

"Andy, not here!" a woman's voice called out from the adjoining room before she stepped in and halted upon noticing they had a visitor. She was a woman who had to be in her mid-to-late 20's with her long brunette hair tied back in a ponytail and looking rather rugged in her well-worn duster, black cowboy hat and motorcycle boots. There was a lever-action rifle slung across her back and a rather large revolver strapped to her side.

"Hello there," she greeted before stopping to look me up and down, "Wait a minute, you're that guy from the other night aren't you? I recognize the jumpsuit, but don't recognize your face."

"Uh yeah...I think that's supposed to be me. Gus told me to come over here and chat with Sheriff Ruby," I replied awkwardly.

"Well damn, you're looking like a whole new person," the woman chuckled before extending a hand and showing off some surprising strength as she gripped mine, "Anyways, that would be me. Name's Ruby Stone and I'm the law around here, it's a pleasure to finally meet you...under better circumstances that is."

"Likewise," I muttered, my attention drawn to the mounted Brahmin head hanging on the wall behind her desk.

"So what do I call you? I'm sure they call you something," she remarked raising an eyebrow.

I hesitated before answering, "For now just call me Seventy-Two. I don't remember my real name."

"Heh, when you've had a million John Does out there a change is nice for once she chuckled, but halted upon noticing my look of confusion and straightened herself out, "It was a placeholder name authorities used to give patients whose identities were unknown back in the old days, but that's a story for another time. Anyways, please have a seat and we'll talk more," she said motioning for the empty chair in front of her desk.

I obliged and took a seat across from her. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask the woman and took the time to compose myself as she took one last swig from her coffee and set the now emptied mug aside.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about what happened. I can't remember anything else that happened before that night," I said before turning to show her the scar along the right side of my now shaven head.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna be telling you a bunch of stuff the Doc might have already told you. A couple nights back my crew and I were out looking for the members of a supply caravan that hadn't arrived on time. We knew they were gonna be taking a stroll through Road Ragers territory, but ol' Jonah, you couldn't tell that stubborn bastard a damned thing. It wasn't hard to track 'em down either. All we had to do was follow the trail of carnage and then next thing we know, we're finding them ready to finish you off," the sheriff grunted.

"Is there anything else you can tell me? Just anything in general would be helpful, like how could I have ended up there? Was there any info that could tell you who I was?" I asked leaning towards her, hoping for an answer to the question that had been dogging me all this time.

"I'm afraid by the time we got there anybody else who could have told us anything was already dead. You were the lucky one," she said looking away with an almost haunted look in her eyes. She halted herself a second later as if gripped by an unseen force.

"We found another guy in a Vault jumpsuit there, had one of his arms missing."

Now she had my undivided attention and I squeezed my eyes shut trying to go back to that night, yet I was still met by nothing.

"There was no way in hell we were going to leave him out in the open like that to the mercy of those freaks and any other critters wandering around, so we buried him along with the others," she finished.

"Others? Did you find other people there dressed like that?" I asked.

"Nope. It was just you and that one-armed guy, Vault 39 on his jumpsuit, don't know if that's of much relevance to you or not. We also found one of those goons from the Scarface Syndicate among the dead. I wanted to leave him out for the vultures, but the others wouldn't let that happen," Ruby continued.

"The Scarface Syndicate? Who are they?" I asked looking towards the man – Andy – in the room. Even though he seemed more focused on the _'Guns and Bullets'_ magazine in front of him, I still found myself speaking in a hushed tone as if others could be listening from nearby. I felt relieved when his head didn't perk up.

"Only the biggest criminal organization in the land. Gun running, chem manufacturing, bootlegging, cap counterfeiting, slaving, sleipnir theft, murder for hire, you name it, they do it. Normally they stick to the other side of the Mississippi, but with all the fighting going on they've been getting more ballsy. Whenever one of them is hanging around you can bet your ass something big is going down and in the case of two Vault dwellers, I'm willing to bet slaving was involved," Ruby said leaning back in her swivel chair.

"Vault dwellers and slaving?" I asked with a quizzical glance.

"Think about it. No offense intended, but those who grew up in the Vaults are typically the most naive and fearful, thus making them the easiest to fool and intimidate. That plus they are considered a hot commodity due to their pure genetic structures untouched by the radiation. I've heard around of 'pure' humans netting slavers anywhere around five digits in caps," Ruby continued.

"Caps?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow, perhaps living up to the 'naive Vault dweller' stereotype Ruby had just brought up.

"Yeah, bottle caps. We've been using them as currency around here for as long as I can remember. You'd best keep that in mind if you really have been living in a vault all these years," she nodded.

"Well, any bit of information you are able to provide is much appreciated," I replied before changing the subject, "Doc Graham mentioned that you found me at a drive-in about ten miles outside of here. Can you tell me more about that place?"

Ruby looked warily towards me before answering, "It was the Shooting Star Drive-In. Would have been nice back in the day, 'til the Road Ragers took over and decided to redecorate."

A few moments of silence passed before she spoke, "Why? You're not seriously planning on checking that place out, are you?"

I hesitated to reply at first but with a deep breath I forced myself, "I have to. I have to find whatever clues I can get to finding out who I really am."

The sheriff narrowed her eyes at me, "I don't like that one bit. Those Road Ragers aren't human. They're damned animals. Going through their territory alone would be fucking suicidal. Hell, we barely made it out of there trying to save your ass."

I knew she wouldn't like my answer, but I could sense she was a reasonable individual who only looked out for me in the same way she would for a brother and it would take some careful wording to find my way around her rough around the edges exterior.

"With all due respect, I understand you are trying to look out for me. I know it will be a long, dangerous journey for me and there's a chance I might not like what I find at the end, but I _need_ to find out who I am. I simply cannot sit around wondering or else it will eat away at me forever. There is something out there. I need to find it and I'm not going to find it if I'm cooped up around here. I know you can't comprehend what I'm going through right now, but I need you to understand where I am coming from...the path of a broken man," my speech direct and with force, the kind of force that should make anybody stop and think.

Ruby sat and stared quietly at me with her eyes still narrowed and it was after a few seconds she finally sighed and spoke, "You know, you're right. There are answers out there you must seek and you're not going to find them just sitting around here. I can't understand where you are coming from, but I'm sure it must be hell for you," she spoke before rising to her feet and walking over to a footlocker and pulling out a battered rifle.

"I wanted to wait until you woke up before I gave this back to you, just so I could make sure you weren't no troublemaker. They found it with you back at the encampment and assumed it must belong to you," the sheriff said holding the rifle up.

I took the rifle from her hands and carefully examined it. I could tell it had seen its fair share of wear and tear from all the scrapes on the wooden surface and some dents in the barrel, including some gouges left where someone had attempted to jimmy the chamber open with a screwdriver. It was heavily modified for combat with a night vision telescopic sight, an extended magazine capacity for extra rounds, and a silencer for a quiet death from afar. Maybe I was some kind of bad ass soldierI told myself as I ejected the clip to see I still had three bullets on me and was about to address her when I turned the rifle over and found the name _'Annie'_ scratched into the side.

Annie? Who could that be? Surely it had to be someone important to me if I was going to scratch their name on the side of a gun, but who? My mother? My sister? My wife?

"Seventy-Two, are you alright?" she asked looking down at me.

"This...doesn't feel familiar," I said staring dumbfounded at the aged rifle before handing it back to her.

"Well you must have put up a hell of a fight," she said ejecting the clip and examining one of the bullets, "If you're gonna be going back out there, you're sure gonna need a whole hell of a lot more ammo than this, not to forget you'll need to brush up on your skills. I know just the place to take you."

XXXXX

Upon entering the O.K. Shooting Emporium my eyes were not drawn to the multitude of guns lining the walls, but rather the mounted beast in the center of the room, standing tall on its hind legs with its fangs bared and its claws extended, ready to cut down whoever were to step through the front door.

"What the hell?" I muttered to myself, taking in the beast's ragged and rotting appearance, the creature looking back to me with one lifeless eye.

"That right there son is ol' Charlie One-Eye, king of the yao guai and the baddest sum bitch this side of the Mississippi...heh heh, at least 'til he crossed paths with Ted Sanderson!" a voice called out and I turned to see an older man with a rattan cowboy hat and graying handlebar mustache walking towards me, also clad in a leather vest with a red neckerchief, blue tartan shirt, tan cargo pants, and heavily-scuffed cowboy boots. With a heavy chuckle he withdrew the large revolver strapped to his holster and proudly displayed it for us to see, "Took 'im down with my own little monster."

I just stared at the man and blinked.

"Yao...what?" I asked, confused by the foreign term.

"I'll explain later," Ruby said stepping in front of me, "My friend here needs some 5.56 rounds for his rifle."

Ted holstered his pistol and eyed Annie closely, "Looks more beaten up than a hooker that didn't give a john a 'happy ending.' You sure you ain't lookin' for a new gun, son?"

I looked over to Ruby, who rolled her eyes at the old man's analogy before I looked back to the dealer and spoke, "Uh...I'm fine with what I've got here thank you very much. Can I please just get some more bullets?"

"Let's check out what pistols you've got in stock also," Ruby spoke up before looking back to me, "You'll need more than one gun to survive out in these parts."

I just nodded and we followed Ted around the stuffed 'yao guai' and further back into the shop where I was able to see the numerous types of assault rifles, shotguns, submachine guns and sniper rifles lining the walls before we reached the counter.

"Feast your eyes. There's plenty to go 'round here for the next apocalypse," Ted said gesturing towards the pistols lining the shelf beneath us.

I took the time to carefully scan the firearms, ranging from a few revolvers and quite a few blocky and box-like handguns before my finger traced along a large revolver with a gold star engraved on the side, "What about that one?"

Ted let out a harsh laugh, "Seriously? The Sequoia is _far_ too heavy for a wet behind the ears Vaultie! You'll shoot your eye out, kid."

Who the hell does this guy think he is to be talking down to me like this? I opened my mouth to speak, but again Ruby stepped in.

"Just give him a 10mm!" the sheriff said getting between us and raising her left hand to keep me at bay while reaching into her duster's pocket and pulling out a small pouch to place on the counter.

"Smart move," Ted scoffed pulling out the 10mm pistol and placing it on the countertop along with 2 clips. I looked over to Ruby, who silently willed me on and I took the gun and ammo. The shopkeeper then pulled out 3 clips to give me for Annie. "Be careful. These things don't grow on trees y'know," he said handing them to me.

"Come on," Ruby said grabbing me by the shoulder and leading me to the back door. "We're going to use the range. Come along now."

"Is he like that with everybody?" I whispered as I was led along.

"Never mind old Ted. He claims to be some big hardcore survivalist type and that he's killed practically every type of wild animal out there, but I think a lot of it is just him blowing smoke. He doesn't really respect anybody until they 'prove' themselves to him. How that goes, you never know with him. He only respects me because I saved his old ass from a riverlurk back in The Cross, but he'll never admit that to anybody else. Stubborn old bastard tried taking it on all by himself, can't tell him that he's not as quick as he used to be," Ruby replied as we made our way to the shooting range.

The 'range' had once been a cinder block building with its entire front end now demolished, leaving only three blackened walls and the partial remnants of a roof to protect any passerby from the stray bullets that failed to find their targets.

There were a few red and white circular wooden targets hanging from the blackened walls in addition to numerous fences that had been set up and lined with glass bottles, ceramic plates, broken appliances, a few small statues, and even a few mannequins set up behind obstacles like sandbag walls, emptied steel drums, pock-marked shipping crates, a broken down washing machine, and the front end of a wrecked car.

At the front of the range there was a large red 'X' spray painted on the ground and I assumed that's where I was supposed to stand, so I took my position there, drew Annie and inserted a fresh clip.

It was then I remembered the severed stump where my right index finger used to be and I stared at my hand warily, wondering what I was going to do about that.

"Hmm, maybe you could try using your middle finger to squeeze the trigger," Ruby suggested as she watched from the sidelines.

Heeding her advice I placed my middle finger on the trigger and got used to the feeling of holding my rifle in that kind of manner before resting the stock against my shoulder and got myself acquainted with the gun's sights. The battered rifle almost felt comfortable in my hands and again I was left to wonder if this had truly been mine before the attack, but overall I was still left asking myself who the hell was Annie?

"Whenever you're ready," Ruby spoke and I was broken out of my reverie.

I peered through the scope and set my sights on an old brown bottle with its label long torn away, figuring I'd start myself out with a challenge. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves I took aim and squeezed the trigger.

With a muted puff the bullet sailed harmlessly over the bottle and struck the cinder block wall behind it with a muffled _'thwock.'_

"Whoa there, maybe you should start out with something bigger," Ruby spoke up before pointing to one of the circular targets, "Why don't you try for that target over there?"

I stared back in annoyance before letting out a heavy sigh and taking aim on the target as pointed out. With another deep breath I squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew from the barrel, barely clipping the outer rim.

"Fuck," I grumbled to myself, wondering if it had been a mistake I was left with this rifle.

"Maybe you should try crouching. That might help improve your accuracy," Ruby called out.

At this point I was getting frustrated with not hitting anything and I offered a curt nod before taking a knee. Peering through my rifle's scope I took a deep breath and exhaled before squeezing the trigger.

Within a split second a ceramic plate was reduced to a pile of crumbs.

"Wow, hey you got it! You're improving after all," Ruby laughed.

I offered a slight nod of acknowledgment and switched my sights to an old jug next to it. With another deep breath and a mental countdown I squeezed the trigger and the upper half of the jug was blown off.

"Going for the hat trick?" Ruby asked behind me.

I didn't answer and turned my attention to a wooden garden gnome covered in peeling paint and missing one of its arms. Lining up my sights I took aim and fired a round that obliterated what remained of the little guy's rotting face.

"Nice shooting. Now why don't we up the ante?" Ruby spoke and from the corner of my eye I watched her pull a lever down.

I heard a metallic whine and looked forward to see the cracked upper torso of a mannequin come rolling into view, the dummy attached to a motorized platform and made to look like a wasteland raider with its spiked helmet and the broken assault rifle slung around its neck.

"Quick, get him before he gets you!" Ruby shouted.

I was a bit rattled as I struggled to steady my aim against a moving target, but I quickly composed myself and fired a round that caught my approaching 'enemy' in the chest, a surefire kill to an actual human being. Feeling the surge of adrenaline I fired another round that tore through its neck and then a shot between the eyes that brought the motorized platform to a sudden halt.

"Three kills for three shots. I'd say a bit more practice and you might be ready to roll," Ruby congratulated as I ejected the spent clip and loaded another.

There would be no time for extra practice as the ringing of a bell permeated the calm atmosphere.

"That's not good!" Ruby exclaimed drawing her repeater, "Come on!"

I chased after her through a wooden gate and we stepped onto a street where frightened townspeople were racing past us. It wasn't much later we were approached by a Hispanic man in a duster similar to Ruby's.

"Sheriff Ruby, we got a call from Virgil up front. It's the Road Ragers! There's a bunch of them and they're coming right for us!" the man blurted out before drawing the shotgun strapped to his back.

"No doubt they must be pissed off over the other night," Ruby grumbled before turning to me, "Seventy-Two, I need you to get over to the motel right away. You should be safe there."

I stared quietly at the sheriff. My mind screamed at me to move as I could hear the roar of engines from a distance, but my body was deaf to its demands as I felt torn on whether or not to obey.

"I want to help," was all I said.

Gunshots rang out from the distance and Ruby turned in their direction before turning back to me, "I'm glad you wanna help and all, but we can't risk it after what you've been through. If you wanna help anybody, go help Gus!" she finished in a shout as the blare of a truck's horn followed and I felt her shoving me backward.

"Just go!" she hollered.

Her mighty push was all I needed to turn around and start running for the main building. I don't know why I kept going because I still had that desire to help her out, yet everything else morphed into a blur around me as my legs kept me moving forward, screams and shouts coming from all directions.

It wasn't until I heard the ear-splitting crash that I was snapped out of my trance and I turned to find a heavily-armored pickup truck plowing through the front gates. Acting on instinct I raised Annie to open fire, but was halted as I felt a strong pair of hands clasping onto my shoulders and next thing I know I was being dragged into a darkened room.

XXXXX

 _Excerpt from "Wasteland Daily:"_

Once a peaceful tribe known as the "Scrappers," the Road Ragers would morph into a murderous band of marauders after the ambitious lieutenant Gearhead would murder their former chieftain, along with anybody else who dared oppose him.

XXXXX

 **Author's Note:** And so concludes the second chapter of "From the Unknown," at least I hope this is it after I've had to make quite a few minor tweaks.

Another thing I'm going to try is these "Wasteland Daily" excerpts, which are like my answer to the loading screens in the recent "Fallout" games that state random blurbs about locations, factions, combat, and so much more.

It's my way of stating random things on my mind that I might not be able to say in the actual story itself when told from a first person perspective.

Until then, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME!


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